


Rising Star

by Fyre



Series: A Little Kindness [2]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Slow Show - mia_ugly
Genre: Missing Scene, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:47:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22760470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyre/pseuds/Fyre
Summary: “So exciting news, huh?”“Absolutely.” That was understating things. The lead in a television show was a huge leap. Yes, he’d played leading roles before, but generally, he was the well-spoken British villain against the plucky yanks or the film or programme was a minor release. “It’s very flattering.” And he couldn’t help voicing the question that had been sitting at the back of his mind since his video audition. “Is it confirmed?”Gabriel’s white teeth flashed. “All but signed on the dotted line.”
Series: A Little Kindness [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1628107
Comments: 48
Kudos: 167
Collections: Slow Show Metaverse





	Rising Star

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mia_ugly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mia_ugly/gifts).



> 1) I am weak. 2) I love Tracy.
> 
>  **WARNING FOR SLURS** \- Because Gabriel is a homophobic douche.

“Is that really necessary?”

Avery hesitated, fork halfway to his mouth, as his manager slipped into the seat opposite him. “Ah. Gabriel.” He glanced self-consciously at the piece of tart in front of him, then set the fork back down on the plate. “Do you want anything?”

“Water is fine,” Gabriel said, reaching for the jug. Nothing new there. For someone who made a show of looking good, Gabriel was the cheapest person Avery had ever met when it came to eating out. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe that was the key to looking like a catalogue model. “So exciting news, huh?”

“Absolutely.” That was understating things. The lead in a television show was a huge leap. Yes, he’d played leading roles before, but generally, he was the well-spoken British villain against the plucky yanks or the film or programme was a minor release. “It’s very flattering.” And he couldn’t help voicing the question that had been sitting at the back of his mind since his video audition. “Is it confirmed?”

Gabriel’s white teeth flashed. “All but signed on the dotted line.” The smile turned into a grimace. “I mean, they still have some… people I’m not sure about.”

“Oh?” Avery eyed his fork longingly. It really was a very good tart.

“God knows why they want to try and resurrect some junkie homo’s career with the show.”

Avery felt suddenly sick. “I believe that’s considered… very offensive these days,” he ventured, appetite lost.

“Homo? Or junkie?” Gabriel snorted. “Either way, he’s both and if he takes this show down and ruins your career like he torpedoed his own…”

“He?” Avery shook his head, confused. “Gabriel, what’s going on?”

“Oh! Right! You never read the tabloids, do you?” Gabriel leaned forward, propping one arm on the table. “Word is that HBO are trying to get that Crawly guy to play opposite you.”

“Crawly…” Avery stared at him, his heart giving an odd flip. “You… you don’t mean _the_ Anthony Crowley?”

“Not exactly ‘the’ anymore,” Gabriel made a face. “Mr. Anthony ‘my mommy and daddy are super famous so who cares if I’m a total screw-up’ Crowley. I swear to God if they bring him on board and–”

“He’s a very good actor,” Avery interrupted hotly. He remembered sitting in the dark in Stratford, mesmerised, breathless, at Crowley’s Mercutio. There was a subtlety in his performance, a fragility, which had made him impossible to look away from.

Gabriel snorted and took a sip of his water. “ _Was_. Past tense.”

Oh Lord.

Avery picked up his teacup, steadying it with his other hand. It was shaking so much he almost slopped tea over his fingers. “Is it likely? I mean, for him to get the role?”

From the way Gabriel twisted his face, it was. “I don’t get what the big deal is. So he was pretty good a few years ago. We don’t need some cokehead queer brought in just to get some extra headlines and drama. Don’t need it stealing your spotlight or reflecting poorly on you.”

On you, you mean, Avery thought bitterly.

But if what he was saying was true…

Years ago, he had worked through Anthony Crowley’s back-catalogue. Some of the films were truly dire, but in every one of them, Crowley poured his heart and soul into the performance. He was magnetic on the screen, every look, every gesture, a masterclass in performance. If he was still as good – of course he would be. You couldn’t hide natural talent like that – then…

Oh _God_ , Avery thought, a surge of panic running through him, he would have to play opposite him. He would have to act when faced with that earth-scorching intensity that imbued every one of the man’s performances.

“When will we know?” he asked, cutting over whatever the hell Gabriel was on about.

“Conference call tomorrow lunchtime,” Gabriel said, beaming. “I don’t want to count our chickens, but I think we’re all in there. All leads are going to be in on the call.”

And if we don’t get the call, we don’t get the part. What a charming way to do it. Like reality television with a good deal more mortification and testy managers.

Twenty-four hours, then. Twenty-four hours to sit on his hands and try not to imagine being on a set with an actor he has admired for years. It’s happened before and he made a right tit of himself, but that was when he was starting out and not used to it. Now, you’d think he would know better, but his heart won’t stop thrumming at the thought.

As soon as Gabriel finished their business talk – and after Avery managed to finish his tart in peace – he hurried out and flagged down the first taxi that came along, hopping in the back.

There was already a message from Tracy.

[Do I have to stamp on his foot again?]

Avery smiled crookedly. The number of times Tracy had ‘accidentally’ trod on Gabriel’s foot was getting towards the double-figures. Oops, just clumsy, she always said. Bit too much to drink. It’s these heels. Oh dear, sorry, pet, was that your foot again? Honestly, I think we’re jinxed.

He thumbed the call button. “You don’t have to,” he said as soon as she answered.

“Well, he doesn’t _have_ to be such a rude bugger, does he? We all have our crosses to bear.”

Avery smiled helplessly. “You’re a monster.”

“I know, dear. The best kind. How was the meeting? Apart from… well… _him_.”

“We’ll know about the role tomorrow. Conference call.”

Tracy gave an excited little squeal. “Oh, I forgot how exciting this bit is! That means they want you, doesn’t it? I mean, they wouldn’t call you to tell you to sling your hook!”

“Well, I’d hope not!” He swallowed. “Trace, you’ll never believe who they’re talking about for Erasmus.”

“S’that the kid or the conman?”

“Conman. Sort of. Not the kid.”

“Hm. Well, if it’s an American company, they’ll want someone famous over there, won’t they? Is it Johnny Depp?”

Well, there was a mental image that would never go away. “No, no! Do you remember” – strange how the name hitched on his tongue –“Anthony Crowley?”

“They never did!”

“ _Maybe_ ,” he hastily qualified. “Gabriel says there’s been some discussion and it–” He laughed, odd and shaky. “It sounds like he’s going to get it. It’s going to be _him_.”

“Bugger me backwards! You and Anthony Crowley!”

“I know!” His hands were shaking again. “Gabriel isn’t too happy about it. My reputation and the show and everything, but I– I just– I never thought I’d get a chance to see him perform again, not after everything and now–”

“And now you’re going to make an absolute tit of yourself in front of him?”

His cheeks felt suddenly warm and he grinned self-consciously at his reflection in the window. “No! Shut up!”

“Bet you a fiver?” She laughed. “I know you, Az. I share your DVD collection, remember. I can name all the classics.”

“You,” he informed her, still grinning, “are a nightmare.”

“Yeah, I am a bit,” she said happily. “Fancy a marathon? So we can pick which of the films you want to take for him to sign? Bet he’d be impressed you still have a few on video, eh?”

“I swear, Trace…” He laughed helplessly. “You’re awful.”

“Do you want to do them chronologically or alphabetically? And do we include the bootlegs?”

He rolled his eyes to the roof of the cab. “Fine. Chronological. No bootlegs.”

It was bad enough watching a filmed performance. A shaky handheld video copy of Crowley’s Benedick was probably going a bit far.

“You get the plonk in and I’ll get the takeaway. A celebration of you getting some steady employment for once in your life, you artsy fartsy layabout.”

“Coming from an amateur occultist?” He chuckled. “I don’t even have the job yet.”

“My arse you don’t,” she retorted. “Gabriel’d be all over you like a rash if it wasn’t a dead cert.”

That was depressingly accurate. “I’ll be home by six.”

“I’ll be waiting. With _Aaaaaaaaaaanthony_.”

“Oh… sod off!” He hung up and leaned against the side of the cab, curling a hand over his mouth to hide his smile. It wasn’t often you got to work with a true icon, even if they had been out of the game for a while. Oh, Lord, he hoped it would be true. 


End file.
